


Scars

by ThisIsLightful



Series: Begrudgingly I Care [1]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Angsty Zuko, Begrudging Caretaker Zuko, I can't believe that it's not a tag, banished zuko, because yeah that is he, zuko collects children
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-16
Updated: 2017-06-16
Packaged: 2018-11-14 19:13:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11214483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThisIsLightful/pseuds/ThisIsLightful
Summary: What if there was more focus on war-torn children? On the symptoms and aftermath of battle and starvation and abandonment? What if Zuko saw this once he had been banished?Zuko used to have a strong moral compass- strong enough to tell a war general not to use the loyal, honorable recruits as if they were nothing but canon fodder, at least, so what if he was put in a situation where he ad to use that moral compass?





	Scars

He didn’t mean to. Really, he didn’t. He had just been banished, his scar was still throbbing with the memory of flame, and he had set sail to a town he knew had recently been colonized. It was an accident, honest.

He hadn’t expected the sallow faces. The down-turned heads.The cries of children. Zuko had been told that the empire was glory, that the war was honor, that the losses were infinitesimal in the face of all that could and would be gained.

This didn’t look like glory.

And, above all of that, he had been told that children were the future of the empire.  _(”It is important that you all learn as much as possible now and that you conduct yourselves with caution and forethought. You all must be shaped into the best versions of yourselves as is possible to achieve. Children, after all, are the future of this great nation!”)_

So, upon seeing the crying child crawling on a pile of ash and rubble, Zuko had done the only thing possible: he had picked the toddler up. It was then that Zuko saw the somewhat deformed face, the mutilated arm, and he hugged the toddler closer, fingers touching his own, recent, mutilation.

He resonated with the child. A pile of ash was all Zuko seemed to be able to stand over, too.

Uncle Iroh walked up to him slowly, his voice a sad, low-pitched drawl, “This child was likely borne of a mother starved; there doesn’t seem to be much food in these parts.” Uncle rearranged the hold Zuko had on the child, and the child babbled happily. “But, perhaps like the Resurrecting Forests, the child can still thrive after being hurt what most people believe to be beyond repair.” A hand on Zuko’s shoulder, “The child can grow in the harshest of winters or the fiercest of fires if taken care of and loved properly. Prince Zuko, we should see if this child has a family. It isn’t safe for them to be playing in the debris: they might get sick or hurt.”

“Yes, Uncle.” Zuko had been happy for the distraction.

But the child didn’t have a family. They had all died, or been killed, or fled.

Zuko’s heart clenched in his chest. When his mother had died, he had prayed that he follow her soon. When he had been banished, he wished to be swallowed by the seas. This child had lost everyone and everything, and still they laughed and babbled, unaware. 

He decided.

“Uncle…” Zuko looked away, and then into the green of the child’s eyes. Earthbender eyes. “I think we should take them with us.”

And, for the first time in what felt like years but was only a few weeks, his uncle had laughed. A full belly, clutching at himself, tearing in the eyes laugh. And Zuko laughed with him. He felt free. He felt like he could do anything.

“We’re going to have to name them-” his uncle checked the toddler’s pants and laughed again, “her then.”

Zuko stared at the child, his topknot a heavy burden on his head. He looked at this child, so young yet so abandoned, and grinned. “Cyrtanthus.”

“After the fire lily?” his uncle sounded vaguely impressed with Zuko’s plant knowledge, and curious as to why this name should be given to a child ravaged by the fire’s of their people.

“Yes. She will rise from these ashes, Uncle. And besides,” Zuko turned around, towards the ship. His men had tried to help rebuild, but they were being rebuffed. They left some coins, though. It was time to leave- Zuko was used to being able to read when he was no longer wanted. “It’s also known as the ‘Scarborough’ Lily. It seems only fitting.”

He didn’t mean to take that child in, nor any of the others, but the scars on their skin, the sorrow in their eyes, the loss in their hearts called to him. And now that he had taken them in, well, Zuko was never one to do anything by halves. They were his responsibility now, and he would make sure that they could grow to make their own choices.

He ignored the thoughts that bathed in blasphemy, that said “ _Raise them to speak out, unlike your father did you”_ because he was pretty sure that was treason.

He might have been fire, and fire will scar and burn, but it can warm and comfort, too. He just hopes that he can do so without searing the skin of these people.

He hopes, with the every ounce of the raging inferno lit within him, that the Avatar can save him, too.


End file.
